


Beneath a Thin Veneer

by scatter



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Guilt, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Unrequited Lust, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatter/pseuds/scatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dojima's starting to feel transparent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath a Thin Veneer

Lately, the way Adachi watched him at lunch irritated Dojima. "Got something on your mind? You been staring at me for days."

"Sorry, sir, it's nothing." Adachi busied himself with his own meal, breaking off and crumbling the plastic wrapping that kept it secure. "But, you know, you haven't been sending me out to grab your lunch lately."

"I noticed," Dojima said dryly. He popped the lid on his own box. The meal inside – rice, slices of salmon, a sweet for after – was a level above Adachi's meal. Junes carried high quality goods, but only if you could afford it.

Adachi gave it an envious glance. "No offense, but I didn't know you could cook. Is it a new hobby? I didn't take you for that kind of guy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dojima let him flounder for an answer briefly before cutting him off. "Relax, I didn't make it."

"No? Then, uh..." He raised his eyebrows. "There's someone waiting at home?"

"If you must know, my nephew made it." Dojima could feel a headache starting to form. He'd been getting a lot of those recently.

"That so?" Adachi poked at his own bento, nudging an eye of the character that had been arranged on his rice. "Wish I had a cute nephew to cook for me."

Dojima knew he didn't mean anything by it, that it was one of the usual careless statements that came out of his mouth, but it still hit too close to home. "He does it for Nanako, too," he said, more sharply than he'd intended.

Adachi didn't notice. "Can't be too good, though, the way you look when you eat it."

"The way I—what?"

"You make faces. You hadn't noticed?" Adachi laughed. "Don't do it at home, you'll hurt his feelings. At least pretend it's okay."

"It's fine."

"Really. Then could I—?" Dojima rolled his eyes but held the box out. Adachi leaned across his desk, nearly knocking down a stack of papers that'd been there for a week, and snagged a slice of salmon with his chopsticks. "Hey, this is good! If you don't want it—"

"You've got your own food, eat it."

"Yeah, I know. But if you could put in a good word for me..." He trailed off when he became obvious he was talking to himself.

Dojima ate and tried not to make faces.

The problem wasn't the food, but rather that Dojima's head wasn't on straight. Nothing else would explain the fact that he was having increasing trouble seeing Souji as only a nephew.

He'd laughed when he'd noticed the way Souji spent time in the kitchen and mother-hened everyone he could get his hands on, even threw out a joke about him looking like a housewife in his white apron. But the meals he made kept coming, and they'd gotten more comfortable around each other, and at some point Dojiima'd stopped laughing. Instead, he'd started having thoughts that sent his stomach rolling but didn't stop coming.

It'd gotten to the point where even eating Souji's food gave him pains. He felt guilty, like he was tricking him somehow.

When he got home, Nanako was seated in front of the TV and from the sounds and smells coming from the kitchen, Souji was taking care of dinner again. "I'm home."

"Hi, Dad!"

"Welcome back."

Dojima stepped into the room proper, and Yosuke waved from where he sat on the counter top. "Hi, Dojima-san."

"Hanamura." Seeing him there threw Dojima off-balance. "You sit like that at home?"

He slid down. "Eh, no, sorry."

"I told you," Souji said under his breath. Yosuke wrinkled his nose at him. "I thought Yosuke could stay over, since it's the weekend," Souji said, watching his reaction closely. "That's alright, isn't it?"

"Fine. Just don't make a mess of things." He pulled the box from his briefcase and handed it to Souji. "Mind taking care of this?"

"No problem." Souji removed the lid and frowned. "There's still some left."

"Couldn't finish it all – stomach wasn't acting right. It's not your fault."

"That's been happening for a while, hasn't it? Maybe you should take something."

"I am." Souji's apron strings swung behind him as he turned to put the box in the sink. Dojima's eyes tracked them automatically, from the tips all the way up to the knot that kept the short bow in place. "Picked up something from Junes, it's nothing serious."

When he pulled his gaze away, he found Yosuke leaning back on his hands, watching him. He caught Dojima's eye and waved again, and Dojima turned away, immediately annoyed at himself. He was getting paranoid and jumping at nothing. Adachi, Yosuke. Soon he'd start thinking Nanako was looking at him funny.

He rubbed his eyes, tired.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Souji asked. "The doctor's number is...somewhere by the phone, right?"

Yosuke laughed. "Listen to yourself."

"What?"

"I wish you'd call my doctor when I'm sick," he said.

"When's the last time you caught something?"

"I'm sure," Dojima said, bringing Souji's attention back his way. "It's just been a long day."

"Well, dinner's almost done. Try to relax before then?"

"Sure." Another home cooked meal by Souji. Dojima wasn't sure his stomach could handle it, but all he'd accomplish by skipping it would be to make Souji feel bad and let himself go hungry. Besides, the best way to get things back to normal might be to act as though they were. If he lived as though nothing had changed, hopefully everything would click back into place.

He might have been able to do it, too, if Yosuke hadn't spent the entire meal flirting.

Oh, there was no one thing he could call out specifically as flirting, but the conversation had that feel to it, as if he were being deliberately left out, forced to sit by and watch as Yosuke made Souji laugh and talk with an ease Dojima couldn't manage. Well, that was fine. What did he care? Souji could interact with his friends however he wanted, and it was probably good for him to see him with someone else, even if that other person was another boy. It was the perfect way kill Dojima's interest, let him know he was better off not wasting his time wanting something so clearly out of reach.

Not that telling himself that worked. His mood grew increasingly sour.

"Partner, there's rice." Yosuke flicked at the corner of his mouth, eyes hard on Souji's face. "Right here."

"Ah." Souji brought a hand up. "Got it?"

"No, hang on." Without asking, he reached forward and swiped it off.

"Don't..." Souji pursed his lips and shot a look at Dojima, but he kept his eyes on the TV, pretending to be engrossed in the show he couldn't care less about. Souji's hand went under the table and Yosuke winced. "Be good."

"What are you talking about?" Yosuke reached out and wiped Nanako's cheek. "Look, she's got some, too. You guys are messy eaters."

"Oh." Souji went pink. "Sorry."

"At least Dojima-san's neat." Yosuke smiled at him and there was something about it, a sort of mocking edge, that brought Dojima's headache back in full force.

He pushed his plate away.

"No good?" Souji asked.

"It's great, it's just... Work stress. Can't shake it off." He stood up and patted Nanako's head. "I think I'm going to turn in early."

"Alright," Souji said, looking worried. "Goodnight then."

"Night."

Yosuke watched him leave. "Feel better."

It wasn't unusual for Dojima to feel his age, but being jealous of a teenage boy? He was really hitting new lows tonight.

What he needed, he decided, tossing back a couple of painkillers in his room, was a vacation. Or Souji needed one. Time away from each other would be good. Maybe he'd go away for the summer with his friends. He'd have to find some way to suggest it, give him some money to make it happen.

It felt like he'd only managed to get to sleep when a thud on the wall woke him, and his hand went towards his gun before he realized where he was – in his room, late at night – and where the sound had come from – the wall his room shared with Souji.

It could have been an accident, someone hitting a piece of furniture in his sleep, or the boys staying up too late and clowning around. No need to get out of bed about it. But the killer was still loose so he listened and there it was again, right up against the wall, followed this time by whispering. The words were too hushed to make out but that voice sounded like Yosuke and the other one must have been Souji.

No one breaking into the house then. No reason to investigate, nothing except... Why were they still up? Even boys their age had to be tired at this hour.

Standing made a floorboard creek and he certainly didn't have to be quiet in his own house, but he winced all the same. When he realized he was holding his breath, waiting for some sign he'd been heard, he let it out in a heavy rush.

All he needed was a fist on the wall, one solid knock that would let them know he was awake and it was time to get to sleep, but as he raised his hand the thuds started up again. They were barely there but more rhythmic, and all the dirtier for how muted they were. He thought this time that he could hear someone – Souji – gasping in time.

Suddenly, he couldn't find the spit to swallow.

There'd been a case a couple years back involving stolen property and an affair, and rumor had gotten out that the wife was sleeping with her stepson. There hadn't been any evidence to support it, but Inaba loved gossip and everyone had latched onto it, passed it around until she'd finally left town, half-crazed.

It'd be worse, if someone got a whiff of what was on Dojima's mind. It'd ruin Souji's life, stain Nanako's while she was too young to understand what was happening, and destroy his career.

He should have gotten back into bed and slept through it.

Instead, he braced one arm against the wall and cupped himself through his shorts, short and hard. Just to get the feel of it, he told himself, acutely aware that he was going to be sick in the morning because of this, that there was a good chance of that happening now, a foul taste building up in the back of his throat. He didn't stop at getting a feel; his dick grew fast beneath his palm and he changed his grip, tried to match what he could hear.

It wasn't long before he was breathing too loudly to hear anything but his own ragged panting, sweat trailing under his shirt and down his sides. Dammit, he arrested people for stuff like this, perverts that strapped mirrors to their shoes and looked up girls' skirts, who got off on lingering near the high school and watching the students. He knew better. But it felt good, better than he'd imagined, and he could push it all down, the shame and the guilt, just for a few minutes. If he kept this to himself, if he never did it again, would this one time even matter?

What was Souji up to on the other side of that wall? Dojima pictured him in those long pajamas of his, maybe only partially on, shirt pulled up and pants pushed down. Those whispers – surely Souji could be quieter than that, couldn't he? Was he actually trying to hide what he was doing, or was the noise on purpose, the knocking a sign he wanted Dojima to hear and know he was—

" _Aah, Yosuke_ —"

—know he was acting like some sad old man, with his embarrassing, desperate eagerness and dirty thoughts. He was close enough that it would only take a few more strokes to finish off, but he was done with this. He didn't finish.

It was too late for a hot shower, not that he thought it would help, so he turned to coffee, near scalding and pitch black. He was halfway into his second cup when Yosuke came down an hour or so later, hair a mess and shirt wrinkled. He didn't look surprised to see Dojima at the table and headed to the fridge. Dojima did his best to ignore him.

Instead of leaving, though, he lingered near the stairs until Dojima's patience wore out. "You want something?"

"Did you listen all the way to the end?"

It took a second for the words to sink in. Dojima raised his eyes and saw Yosuke staring at him. "What?"

"Come on," he said, a faintly contemptuous tone to his voice, "did you think I wouldn't notice? I watch him all the time."

Dojima went uncomfortably cold, even as blood rushed to his face, filling his ears until he had a hard time hearing Yosuke as he continued.

"I don't really care that you're a pervert, but Partner, he's off-limits, alright? And I bet it'd mess him up bad, finding out about you."

"There's nothing to find out," Dojima managed, and now he understood – that had been Yosuke's doing upstairs, making sure he heard them together, putting on a show. He got to his feet, jaw clenched. "You've got a lot of nerve, coming into my house and disrespecting me."

"Nothing, right." Yosuke nodded and took half a step back without looking away from him. "Let's keep it that way, okay?"

"Get the hell out of my sight."

Dojima wasn't sure how long he stood after Yosuke left, but eventually he sank back into the chair, exhausted and disgusted at the both of them. When he reached for his coffee, his hand was shaking and curling it into a fist didn't still it.

There was no evidence. Nothing to back up Yosuke's accusation, and he wouldn't—surely Yosuke of all people wouldn't tell Souji something like that, not when he knew how it would affect him.

It was a short walk to his room, but he slept on the couch.

-

The next morning, as Souji handed Dojima his lunch, dark marks peeked out from behind his collar. He tugged it up, embarrassed, but otherwise didn't act as though anything were out of the ordinary. For his part, Dojima thanked him, pretended not to notice, and didn't glance at Yosuke on his way out. When he got to the office, he gave the meal to Adachi.

He'd lost his appetite.


End file.
